Evening with A Sage

[Guest guest]

Namami Sankaraachaaryam, sarvalokaika Poojitham

 

With permission blessings and grace from HH Swamy Vijeyendra Saraswathi garu of

Shri Kanchi Kamakoti Peetham Paramacharya and miracles

 

Evening with A Sage

Arthur Isenberg

The person who sat opposite me was sixty five years old; slim, a bit on the

smallish side. The top of his head was almost entirely bald or shaven, the lower

portion of his face was outlined by a white beard. He had white moustache and

white eyebrows. His body was clothed in the saffron-coloured mantle of the

Sannyasin.

Not that any of this mattered. What did matter were his face, and more

particularly, his eyes, which looked at me with a mixture, or rather a fine

blending, of intelligence, kindliness and compassion, while at the same time

somehow reflecting a most gentle sense of humour.

I had the definite sensation of being in the presence of man thoroughly at peace

with himself, a sage. The impression grew to conviction during the course of the

three and a half hour conversation that night on 20th April 1959.

The sage is His Holiness, Jagadguru Sri Chandrasekharendra Saraswati Sri Pada,

the present Sankaracharya or spiritual head of the Kanchi Kamakoti Peetham

Conjeevaram, South India.

The physical setting may have played a part in shaping my impression. There is

the magic on the South Indian night in early summer; the light of the full moon

silhouetting a variety of palm trees; the silent flight of bats and flying

foxes; occasional, gentle cool breeze; now and then a sounds of little screech

of owls; or the distant barking of a dog or a jackal.

The Acharya (Preceptor) and I sit cross-legged in a little grove of a garden in

Numbal, a small village some half of dozen miles from Madras.

Almost form the start I impressed by the most remarkable habit which the Acharya

practices. Not only does he never interrupt a question (which would be

remarkable enough!) but he invariably pauses about a minute or more before

answering. His reply, when it comes, clearly shows that it was preceded by

reflection. It is invariably concise and to the point.

Many of the questions discussed by the Acharya and myself were purely personal

interest, but there were other of a more scope.

I asked the Acharya what, in his opinion, would be the most significant aid

which a foreign government or institution, sincerely interested in helping

India, could provide for the country. As usual, he thought for about a minute

before replying, substantially as follows:

" The answer to your question depends, of course, on whom you address it to. If

you were to ask the Indian Government, they would probably say that help was

most urgently needed in the field of agriculture or education. But since you are

asking me, I must give you my answer.

" As I see it, the most significant help which a foreign government or

institution could render to India would be in the cultural field. To help us

deepen our understanding and appreciation of our own cultural heritage in all

its forms-literature, dance, arts, philosophy-to help us carry on research in

these fields and do bring the knowledge of these matters to our people-that

would be rendering truly significant help. "

The views expressed by the Acharya on the subject of the proper role of Indian

women were conservative in the extreme. When I do not share his views. I respect

the reasons which prompt him to hold them.

I had prepared only one question deliberately in anticipation of the interview.

His reply to that question showed that the Acharya was by no means without a

very fine sense of humour.

My question: " It has been said that the real beginning of wisdom consisting of

knowing the right question to ask. Suppose then that I were wise, what question

should I ask you? "

He had begun to smile even as I was asking my question; nevertheless, he

listened carefully to Dr. Raghavan's translation and even asked him to repeat

it. There ensued the customary one-minute pause for reflection. Then came his

answer: " If you were wise, you would not ask any question.' It was my turn to

smile, appreciatively. Then I said: " True enough. But suppose that I were just a

novice, at the beginning stage of the quest of wisdom. That question ought I to

ask you then? "

" In that case you might ask me what you ought to do. "

" All right. Your Holiness, please consider yourself asked. "

His answer, when it came, was, perhaps, a bit anticlimactic. He told me to

continue along the line I was already following.

I warned him that, for better or worse, such was my nature and bent that I could

only follow an intellectual path, that the world of faith was pretty much a

closed book to me. He declared that the path of reason was ultimately not only

the best but indeed that only one, that all other ways-faith, devotion or

whatever-were of value only as preliminaries, preparation, interim stages,

meaning nothing unless superseded by understanding.

" But, " I queried, " isn't there such a thing as pride or arrogance of the

intellect? "

" Yes, " he replied, " but what makes you ask that question is not your intellect

which is its own observer, critic, watchman. "

" How, " I asked, " can one know whether one is making progress, stagnating or

retrogressing in the quest of wisdom? "

He replied: " If each year, the number of things or events, which can arouse you

your anger or lust grows smaller, you are making progress; if it remains the

same, you are stagnating; if it increases, you spiritual development is

retrogressive. "

I enquired whether there was any consolation or joy, any true happiness to be

found. He answered that there was consolation and joy in the quest itself. In

reply to a further question, he amended his answer by stating that ultimate,

non-derivative existence was in itself blissful.

Our conversation covered many other topics. His Holiness evinced particular

interest in certain implications of theoretical physics which, to put it

negatively and rather cautiously, do not clash with the thorough monism of

Advaita Vedanta. (He has repeatedly written and spoken about the relation of

modern science and Advaita).

It is my cherished hope to be able to avail myself of the kind invitation to

meet the Sankaracharya again. Meanwhile, there remains the vivid memory of my

privileged meeting on that peaceful evening with one of the most truly

remarkable persons of our troubled age: the gentle sage of Kanchi Kamakoti

Peetham.